


Choices and Tourneys

by Elveatas (Ricecake)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, a little bit of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecake/pseuds/Elveatas
Summary: Every year, right before mating season, Camelot holds a great tournament in which the alphas will compete with each other in order to show their strength to the omegas who’ll be looking to choose the perfect mate. After all, it’s not the alpha who chooses the omega, but the omega who chooses the alpha, and Arthur really, really wants Merlin to choose him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thank you to the lovely mods of this fest who have been beyond patient with me and given me extention upon extention so that I now, finally, can post this fic!! (Even though I'd sort of given up on it)
> 
> Now beta'ed by the ever so lovely [hart_d](http://hart-d.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Can also be found on [fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12267773/1/Choices-and-Tourneys)

Winter had hardly let go of Camelot before the first flowers had sprung forth from the dirt in search for a sun that was slowly gaining in intensity. The days were getting longer, the nights shorter, and there was a certain quality to the air that pulled people outside their small houses and into the bright sun to enjoy the end of a long and harsh winter. Insects were starting to buzz about during the day and the birds had started singing too early in the morning for people to sleep in. Not that Arthur was able to catch much sleep anyway, as there was a restlessness to his body that he couldn’t seem to shake off no matter how many hours he spent on the training field. He felt on edge all the time, tense as a bowstring, and unable to relax despite how exhausted he was and how nice and hot the steamy baths he had his manservant Morris draw for him were.

At the same time, it felt like all his senses had been enhanced somehow, magnified in a way that made the smallest, everyday things suddenly appear much more than what they were before. The only thing that had seemed to diminish somewhat was his ability to feel pain. His muscles were not as sore as before after a hard day’s training, and he’d barely felt a slight cut he received during a sparring session the other day. Only natural changes Gaius had explained once upon an anatomy lesson, long before Arthur had even presented as an alpha. Before he’d ever truly experienced the madness that was mating season. He’d watched, of course, and seen older knights grow tense and aggravated during springtime, but it had not been before late in puberty he’d begun to feel the tenseness himself. Knowing the reason why he felt like he felt, however, did not mean he felt it any less. He was still unable to relax, still constantly on edge and ready to snap at every moment. In fact, Arthur was pretty sure all of these symptoms had only increased in strength since the fiasco that was last year’s mating tournament.

It was generally said that one’s first mating tournament would not necessarily go well, but Arthur was pretty sure being enchanted and chosen by an omega who’d turned out to be a Sidhe instead, did not fall under that category. It was only thanks to Morgana that he was alive, and she’d lorded it over him ever since. Arthur liked to point out that it was actually Gwen who’d sensed something was wrong, but that only made his sister go on a rant about how saving Arthur’s sorry arse had cheated her out of Gwen’s heat, and that was a conversation he was rather tired of as it once again reminded him that he, too, had been cheated out of spending a week with an omega in heat. And Morgana had at least been able to shag Gwen the rest of the year anyway, whereas Arthur had been all alone, so really, she had nothing to complain about.

Arthur was maybe only a little bit bitter. And by that he meant a lot.

The day before the annual mating tournament was to commence, Arthur found himself outside in the street, practicing his knife-throwing skills to an audience consisting of a couple of his beta friends and a whole crowd of passers-by who’d stopped up to see their prince practice.

People had been arriving from all over the kingdom the last couple of days, and the sweet scent of omegas about to go into heat hung in the air everywhere like a forbidden promise, and there was this _need_ to show off that he couldn’t quench. In fact, he didn’t want to quench it. And why should he? He was the crown prince, after all, and he was fairly sure you couldn’t find a more desirable alpha than him. It was expected of him that he win the mating tournament as he’d done last year, and so he found himself engaging in a bit of moving target practice with his manservant who’d won the unfortunate honour of carrying the target. Arthur laughed his arse off, accompanied by his friends, as Morris ran around, trying to avoid being hit, and looking like an utter fool.

And then an unfamiliar voice stopped them.

“Really?” it said, full of disdain. “Is this how things are done in Camelot? Throwing knifes after people who can’t even defend themselves?”

Arthur turned around to find the source of the voice and was met by the sight of a young boy dressed in dull clothes and road dust.

“Do I know you?” Arthur asked, arching a haughty eyebrow.

“I’m Merlin,” the boy said and reached out a hand for Arthur to shake

Arthur looked from the boy’s face, down to the outstretched hand, and then back up again. “You don’t even know who you’re talking to, do you?” he stated.

Merlin let his hand fall back down, but didn’t seem at all affronted. “I don’t suppose it really matters, does it? All I’m seeing is a stuck-up noble alpha taunting a poor defenceless man, simply because he can.”

Arthur let out a bark of laughter that was echoed by his friends behind him. “This is your first mating tournament, isn’t it?” Arthur asked, taking a threatening step closer to Merlin, shoulders squaring to intimidate. “I don’t remember you from last year.”

“It’s my first, yes. And I must say, I’m kind of disappointed.”

“Disappointed are you?” Arthur said, taking yet another step towards Merlin. “Reality hasn’t lived up to your expectations so far?” he asked.

“Can’t say it has, no,” he told Arthur frankly. “Already met too many people behaving like absolute prats.”

Arthur laughed again. “I am sorry to burst your little bubble— Merlin was it?”

“Yes.”

“—But unlike in the poems and songs you’ve undoubtedly heard, the mating tournament is about the strong showing the weak who’s allowed to mate and who isn’t. Of course, if this is your first mating tournament, you can’t be expected to know that. Allow me to put you in your correct place, then.” There was a choir of laughter behind Arthur and he couldn’t help but smirk dangerously.

“You think I’m weak,” Merlin stated, one eyebrow arched.

“Well, yeah,” Arthur admitted, shrugging. “In fact. I think I could take you apart with only one blow.”

Merlin snorted, licking his lips before he answered. “Well… I guess it’s my turn to burst your bubble, because I could take you apart with less than that.”

Arthur’s friends roared with laughter at that and Arthur wanted to echo the sentiment. The nerve of this boy. Once again, Arthur took a menacing step towards him, every inch of him ready to attack, just _waiting_ to be let loose. “Care to test that?”

Apparently, he was, because he lifted his arm in a gesture that could have been a precedent for punch had Arthur not grabbed hold of Merlin’s arm and viciously twisted it behind his back, forcing him to bend forward to lessen the pain. Arthur breathed in, ready to take him down a peg when—

_Heaven._

There, beneath the layers of travel dirt was a scent unlike any other Arthur had ever smelled. It was if a little piece of heaven had manifested in front of him, delicious, promising, and absolutely mouth-watering in its nature. Arthur had never in his life experienced something like that. But the scent could only mean one thing.

Abruptly, he let go of Merlin as if he’d been burned, taking a startled step back. “You’re an omega,” Arthur stated, faintly hearing the shocked murmurings of his friends as Merlin turned around to level Arthur with a scowl.

“Well, thank you, I hadn’t noticed,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes, brushing off a bit of dirt from his clothes that didn’t help to make him look more like what he was.

“I—” Arthur started, thrown by this new development. “My apologies. It was not well done of me. I should not have antagonised you.”

Merlin continued to glare at him, eyebrow arched pointedly. “But it was okay to have your servant act as a moving target? You’re nothing but a wretched bully, picking on those you think are weaker than you.”

“No— I was—” Arthur tried, wrong-footed.

Merlin snorted. “And now you’re trying to excuse yourself. Well done, _alpha_.” The last word was spat out with a sneer, and Arthur felt like something had gone horribly wrong somewhere.

“Merlin!” a familiar voice shouted from behind them, and Arthur and Merlin simultaneously turned to see Sir Leon making his way towards them. “There you are.”

“Sorry for running off on you, Sir Leon,” Merlin said with a wry smile before he nodded towards Arthur. “But I had to stop this bully.”

Leon came to a halt in front of them. “Your Highness,” he said to Arthur, bowing as respectfully as the situation allowed considering the laughter he was trying to hold in.

Merlin, when Arthur dared look at him, looked like someone had just wilfully shattered a mirror in front of him. His mouth was agape, open in shock and he gave Arthur a look of utter disbelief before turning to Leon, saying, “You _can’t_ be serious!” He gestured towards Arthur in a way most people would face a day in the stocks for. “This prat is an _actual_ royal?!”

“I’m afraid so,” Leon said, not bothering to hide his amusement anymore. And it was only his long-standing friendship with Arthur that saved him from a trip to the dungeons. “May I introduce you to His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Arthur of Camelot.”

Merlin looked Arthur up and down before saying, “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Highness, but I’m afraid that would be a lie. And my mother has taught me not to lie.”

Merlin wasn’t kidding when he’d said he could take Arthur apart with less than one blow. The words had stung in a way he wasn’t used to, especially coming from somebody as good-smelling as Merlin. And _especially_ in front of all of his friends. Arthur was supposed to win the mating tournament, he was supposed to be the alpha above all alphas, and the omegas were supposed to fall all over themselves for the chance to choose Arthur as their mate. And here there was this person, this omega with a smell unlike any other Arthur had ever smelled, so deliciously sweet and lovely and promising, and he was basically telling Arthur he was an undesirable mate.

“Look,” Arthur tried, having the notion that he should at least try to save the conversation somewhat. “I am sorry about my behaviour. It won’t happen again.”

Merlin seemed to regard him for a moment. Then he turned to Leon and said, “I really fear for the future of this kingdom. If this is how their crown prince acts, then I would not want to be a citizen in it.”

Leon, proving right at that moment why he was Arthur’s second-in-command, knew when and how to change the subject and said, “I suggest we head into the castle to get you settled in. I’m sure you’re eager to have a bath and freshen up a bit before tonight’s introduction feast.”

For a moment, it seemed like Merlin wanted to stay and argue, but eventually he sighed and shrugged. “You are right, Sir Leon. It has been a long journey and I’m tired. Even more so after this incident. Please take me to my rooms.”

They went, but not before Leon shot Arthur a very curious yet amused look over his shoulder. And Arthur just _knew_ he’d be hearing about this later. He _knew_.

His friends, correctly sensing Arthur’s day had just plummeted, suggested they should pack up and go back to the castle. Arthur agreed with them.

-ll-

“I hear you’re off to good start,” Morgana, his currently-not-so-beloved sister said as a manner of greeting later that day after she’d let herself into Arthur rooms despite Arthur’s loud protests.

Of course. He shouldn’t be surprised that she already knew. Arthur sighed, closing his eyes briefly in the hopes that he might gather some strength to deal with Morgana that way. “I suppose Leon told you,” he said from his spot by the window where he’d been standing all afternoon, gazing out on the courtyard, lost in thoughts about a subject he didn’t necessarily want to talk about.

Morgana made herself comfortable in one of his chairs without being given leave to do so, brushing out the crinkles on her dress with a smug air about her. “Leon told Elyan who told Gwen who told me. If you’re at all interested in knowing your most faithful knight didn’t go running to me as soon as the opportunity struck.”

Arthur glowered at her. “He knew you’d eventually find out if he told Elyan. That bastard. I should get a new best friend.”

Morgana chuckled. “Arthur, the entire castle already knows. Plenty of people saw you in the marketplace. You had quite the audience in fact.”

“If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re utterly failing,” Arthur said “I want a new sister. Go away and send Guinevere in instead.”

“I doubt Elyan would be willing to trade,” Morgana told him. “And also Gwen is busy helping the omegas arriving from far away get settled in. You’re stuck with me for the time being. Although I’ll be honest and warn you that if you manage to get yourself enchanted again this year, so Gwen and I will have to come save your royal backside _again_ , then _I_ ’ll be the one to demand a new brother.”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur grumbled. “You won’t need to come save me again. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Hopefully, you’ve learned from your mistakes,” Morgana said. Then she grinned. “Which brings me back to earlier today. Allow me to repeat myself: I hear you’re off to a good start.”

“Really, Morgana? Must you? Can’t you just let it go?”

“No, I cannot just let it go. That’s what we annoying siblings do. We latch on to the embarrassing stuff and refuse to let things go until we’re old and grey, or something new and _much_ more embarrassing has presented itself.”

Arthur scowled at her, but she merely arched a pointed eyebrow in return. Eventually, he sighed, averting his gaze to look out of the window instead. “I don’t even know what to tell you,” he said after a few silent moments. “I messed up by assuming he was a beta or an alpha come to compete in the tournament.”

“Yes, I already know that,” Morgana said in that tone of hers that indicated she was rolling her eyes behind his back. “The _better_ question is what business you even have going about attacking visitors in the first place just because they won’t accept your prattish behaviour.”

“I’m the crown prince, Morgana,” Arthur reminded her. “I can’t very well have somebody openly challenge me if I expect people to accept my rule one day.”

Morgana remained pointedly silent.

“I made myself look like an arse today, didn’t I?” Arthur said after some time, his shoulders slumping with the admittance.

“You did,” Morgana said. “Well done, brother. You actually acknowledge it. Bravo.” She clapped her hands for effect but stopped when Arthur sent her a sour look over his shoulder.

Then he sighed in resignation, turning back to stare out of the window to avoid looking her in the eyes. His father had taught him from a young age that a king never apologised, because apologising meant accepting you’d been wrong, and to rule your people, you could not allow yourself to be wrong. And even if you might admit to yourself late at night while lying restless in bed that you’d been wrong, you could never admit your doubts to your subjects. Suddenly they’d start doubting you and wouldn’t respect your next decisions if they did not trust your judgment. Hence, never apologise, _ever_.

However, there was an exception to that rule. Well… two exceptions, actually. The first one was that Arthur should _always_ apologise to the king when Uther demanded it, and preferably in front of the entire court to further validate Uther’s outstanding judgement that he’d been right and Arthur, a mere prince, wrong. The second was that omegas, especially during mating season, _always_ deserved an apology if a mistake had been made.

And Morgana too had been taught all of this, had received the exact same upbringing despite not being heir to the throne, which was perhaps why she refrained from speaking at all and merely remained pointedly silent while Arthur worked through it on his own as he stared out of the window without really seeing anything.

“I should probably apologise, shouldn’t I?” he said.

“You should,” Morgana agreed. “I know it’s hard for somebody like you to admit that they’ve been wrong and even to acknowledge it, but you’ve come very far. Now comes the tough part: Apologising. Should I give you a short introduction as to how that goes?”

“As if you’re any better than me,” Arthur gritted out between his teeth, fighting the rather strong urge to throw her out of his chambers. He crossed his arms. “Who was he even?” he said in a much more neutral tone. “The omega? I believe he was called Merlin. And why was he with Sir Leon in the first place?”

“He’s Gaius’ great nephew, or something like that,” Morgana said, and really, Arthur shouldn’t be surprised she’d already done her homework. “His mother used to live here in the castle before she chose Merlin’s father as a mate and moved with him to go breed dragons on the border between Camelot and Essetir.”

“ _Dragons_?” Arthur turned around to stare at Morgana with disbelief.

“Merlin’s father is a dragonlord. And since the dragons’ mating season falls around the same time as ours, his parents couldn’t accompany him here. Hence Sir Leon acting as his escort. It’s too dangerous for an omega about to go into heat to travel the woods alone, after all. Even somebody as powerful as Merlin is supposed to be.”

“Powerful?” Merlin didn’t look particularly powerful to Arthur. In fact he looked rather weak and gangly even if he was as tall as Arthur. Though he did smell rather lovely, but as far as Arthur knew, you couldn’t actually smell how powerful somebody was.

“They say he’s the strongest sorcerer in an age,” Morgana said slyly, watching Arthur’s reaction carefully. “Or at least, he will be when he’s at his full potential,” she amended with a shrug. “Who knows when that is. Morgause has spoken very well of him.”

Right, Arthur thought. Merlin was a sorcerer and therefore able to take people apart with nothing more than a thought and a guttural word as he’s seen Morgana do plenty of times. Less than one blow, indeed. Especially if he was as strong as Morgana claimed.

-ll-

Rare were the times where high and lowborn could mingle freely among each other; normally, your status was set in stone from the day you were born to the day you died with only few options for change. Mating season was one of those options, and the great hall, when Arthur entered it, was filled to the brim with alphas and omegas from all layers of society, chatting amicably among each other. They had all dressed in their finest clothes for the occasion, but even then, it was easy to spot who was of noble descent and who was not so lucky, though several of the richer merchants could easily be mistaken for a noble. And yet, even then, there was a large difference in the way they held themselves that no amount of glittering jewellery or fine clothes could hide.

Gwen, perhaps, was the grand exception to that rule. Dressed in a red, velvet gown, and wearing more jewellery than even Morgana, she stood tall and proud beside Uther with a kind smile on her face when people came by to pay their respects. As Uther had not had a mate nor participated in the mating tournament for the last couple of years, Gwen, as Morgana’s mate, had filled out the role of a queen the last year. And what a job she’d done. Gwen had been a servant of the royal household and was the daughter of a blacksmith, and Arthur had initially thought Uther would have objected adamantly to Gwen’s choosing of Morgana. And yet, to Arthur’s stunned surprise, his father had merely chuckled and given the pair his blessings.

“I don’t understand,” Arthur had said when he’d come back from the lake where that Sidhe had tried to drown him, and he’d realised Morgana had been chosen by her own maidservant. “Surely, you cannot be happy that a _servant_ has chosen Morgana?” Arthur, personally, did not have anything against Gwen, but he could not understand why his father would allow this mating, this _transference_ of classes, when he hadn’t allowed Lancelot, a peasant beta who was almost as good with a sword as Arthur, to become a knight.

Uther had clasped his shoulder in a firm grip and looked at Arthur with a knowing and strangely fond expression. “It’s not all people who get to discover the special bond between alpha and omega that can make noble omegas choose peasant alphas, and noble alphas accept to be chosen by peasant omegas. Or make an omega choose the same alpha again and again, year after year, mating season after mating season.” He’d smiled and added, “It is my wish that you will one day, too, understand what it is Morgana is so lucky to be experiencing with Guinevere. I will not come between that.”

That conversation had most of all left Arthur more bewildered than before, but he had refrained from questioning Uther further. Besides, Gwen really was good for Morgana, and Arthur could think of no one more suited for his sister. No one more suited to stand there in the middle of the great hall with a royal air about her that belied her peasant birth.

After Arthur had passed by to pay his respect to both his father and his sister-in-law, he ventured out among the throngs of people in search for either his sister or Merlin whom he owed an apology. Neither were anywhere to be seen, however, and instead, Arthur found himself engaged in conversation with several omegas and a few alphas he’d met the previous year. He was nothing but polite with them, exchanging pleasantries and the obligatory ‘how have you been?’ that was expected, but he could not help but feel slightly restless at being detained in his search. Few of the omegas held his attention for very long. He knew Merlin was in the hall; he’d passed by his scent earlier, but he’d lost it in the mixture of all the other scents that whirled about in the room. With so many different alphas and omegas present it was hard to keep hold of a scent for very long and when people constantly demanded his attention it was made even more difficult.

It wasn’t until he encountered a tall, broad shouldered omega male, that by all accounts should have been an alpha because he was so big, that he forgot all about Merlin for a few moments.

“I am Percival, your highness,” the omega said after he’d bowed politely, and shook Arthur’s hand with a grip that impressed Arthur in its raw strength. “I’m a friend of Lancelot’s. He was the one who suggested I come here for mating season.”

“Oh?” Arthur said, delighted, grinning at this unexpected turn of events. “How is he? Out slaying monsters and rescuing swooning damsels in distress?”

“That sounds like Lancelot, yes,” Percival grinned back, kind and warm. “He said I might stumble upon you here, and if I did, to send you his regards.” He lowered his voice, glancing about their surroundings. “And he didn’t say it outright, but I’m sure he’s also curious to know if you still stand by your promise to him.”

“He can rest assured,” Arthur said with a voice that was pitched just as low as Percival’s, right on the border of a whisper. “I look forward to knighting him one day. You can tell him that the next time you see him.”

“I shall, your highness. It’ll mean a lot to him.”

“So how do you two know each other then?” Arthur heard himself asking, and Percival launched into an exciting tale that was every bit as heroic as somebody would expect from a story that involved Lancelot.

They’d ventured into what had happened to Lancelot in Camelot and Arthur’s regret at having to banish him, when Morgana appeared at Arthur’s side, smiling broadly in a way that could never mean good things.

“There you are, brother dearest,” she said before turning her attention towards Percival. “And…who might you be?”

“Percival, your highness,” Percival said, bowing and taking Morgana’s hand. “I’m a friend of Lancelot’s.”

“Then I think I like you already,” Morgana said around a kind smile as Percival kissed her hand.

“Percival was just telling me of how he and Lancelot met,” Arthur said. “Quite a tale, I must say.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Morgana said and prompted Percival to tell the same tale all over again.

Arthur drew back a bit while they talked, subtly watching their surroundings for any signs of Merlin and was quite disappointed when he couldn’t see him. He excused himself from the conversation and went to look for him instead.

“Ahhh, princess,” a familiar voice drawled, and Arthur sighed before turning around to come face to face with Gwaine, one of the frequent patrons of the tavern and in the habit of drinking Arthur’s men under the table from time to time.

“I’m surprised they let you in,” Arthur stated, expression carefully neutral for a moment before he let a grin stretch his lips. “Finally decided to settle down, have you?”

Gwaine shrugged, still grinning. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He gestured towards the hall at large, ever the one for theatrics. “It depends, I suppose, on who chooses me.”

Arthur nodded. Not all omegas and alphas chose each other during new mating seasons. Some only stayed together one season, just enough to calm the heat and then, after it was over, gulped down an anti-pregnancy potion and bid their goodbyes. He knew Gwaine had done that before, and he couldn’t quite imagine Gwaine actually settling down. But miracles did happen, he supposed.

About half an hour later, Arthur managed to retract himself from the conversation and went out in search for Merlin. He had to make sure he managed to apologise to him before the evening was over.

He found Merlin deep in talks with another omega Arthur hadn’t met before and stepped closer, as nonchalantly as he could, as if he just so happened to pass by them. Merlin sniffed once, stopped in the middle of a sentence, and turned around to face Arthur.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said with what was probably the opposite of enthusiasm. “Got tired of bullying people?”

Right… “Look,” Arthur tried, instantly regretting that he hadn’t practiced what he was going to say. “I came here to apologise for my behaviour earlier today. It was not well done of me, and I wanted you to know that I regret it terribly.”

The omega whom Merlin had been talking to wisely chose to bid goodbye at that point with a curtsey to Arthur and a nod to Merlin. Merlin watched her leave before he turned back to level Arthur with an arched eyebrow that had an uncanny resemblance to the ones Gaius usually bestowed him.

And like when Gaius arched an eyebrow at Arthur, he floundered, grasping at what to say next. He should have known Merlin wouldn’t be satisfied with such a standard apology. “I had no business going around harassing visitors in the first place, even if I am the crown prince,” he said, almost flinching at having to parrot Morgana’s words. “I was impaired by all the scents in the air and therefore more aggressive than I normally am. For that I am sorry.”

“That was very hard to say for you, wasn’t it?” Merlin said flatly. “Okay then, I accept your apology to me, as much as I think it was terrible. I’d say, ‘just don’t do it again,’ but I fear you might be a lost case.”

Arthur frowned. “Look, I told you—”

“When that’s been said, then I must remind you that I’m not the only one you should be apologising to,” Merlin said, before Arthur could continue. “Perhaps, you should actually try apologising to your servant, because _he_ ’s the one you actually wronged.” Then, completely unexpectedly, he addressed Morris whom Arthur had actually forgotten had followed him down into the great hall as he usually did at these sort of things. “Has he apologised to you?”

Arthur turned around to look at Morris who mostly resembled a startled deer, eyes wide and quite surprised at being addressed at all.

“Uhm,” Morris said. “He did.”

He fooled absolutely no one with that answer, especially not Merlin who frowned and stepped around Arthur so he could better talk to Morris. “You don’t have to lie. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, yeah?” He patted Morris’ shoulder gently and his face softened. “I know he didn’t apologise.”

“I—” Morris tried. “Really, my Lord, it’s no trouble. I’m just a servant after all.”

“So what?” Merlin said. “You are still a person and you deserve to be treated with respect, just like everybody else, be they noble or peasant.”

Morris shot Arthur a nervous look before he averted his eyes. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Now, I suggest you take the rest of the night off as compensation for how your master treated you today.”

“I couldn’t possibly—” Morris said horrified.

“It’s alright, Morris,” Arthur said, not really knowing what else to do to save the situation. “It’s as Merlin said. Take the rest of the night off.” He tried to put a bit of kindness into his tone, but probably failed by a long shot, judging by Merlin’s expression.

Morris stared at him for an extended moment, likely to check if Arthur was serious, and then he scurried out of the room before anyone could change their mind.

“You care a lot about peasants,” Arthur stated in a carefully neutral tone once Morris had gone.

Merlin gave him an unimpressed look. “And you don’t care for them at all. I meant what I said. They are also people and deserve respect.”

“But they don’t do anything important, do they?” Arthur argued. “Surely a king or a queen who runs a country – or even a knight who puts their life on the line in the name of duty – deserves more respect than a lowly servant?”

“Ahh,” Merlin said. “Then why do you need them at all? Why not just make do without them? If they are so lowly, and their job does not warrant any respect, then I would like to see you handle their duties on a daily basis.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur huffed. “I’m a prince. I have other duties. I don’t have time for servant stuff.”

“And the servants have their duties in order for you to have time for yours,” Merlin said evenly. “Without them you’d be lost. They make sure everything in the castle works so that you can go about making an arse of yourself in the streets and maybe occasionally doing something important like slaying a beast or whatever it is that you pompous princes do when you aren’t harassing the common folk.”

“I told you I don’t normally do that,” Arthur said to defend himself. “It was all the scents driving me crazy. Surely you know us alphas’ senses are enhanced during mating season.”

Merlin stared at him for a long moment. “I feel like this conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he said. “And I am growing quite tired of your company. Please don’t bother me anymore tonight.” With that he left without as much as a bow or even a nod, leaving Arthur to stand there feeling like he’d just been rejected quite horribly.

-ll-

Next morning was the first day of the mating tournament and Arthur woke up bright and early despite not having to compete until later in the day. The tournament was for _all_ alphas to compete in should they choose to, and that naturally included peasants who had never learned how to fight with a sword. To give them a fair chance to impress an omega, the rounds before lunch consisted of wrestling matches that often turned into fistfights of the kind you might expect to find taking place in taverns between drunken brawlers. And then, after lunch, it was time for knights, nobles, and even commoners like Gwaine who knew the way of the sword to compete against each other. Which was a shame, really, because Arthur was pretty sure Gwaine would have gotten a clear victory in the peasant matches given how many bar fights Arthur knew he got himself into on a regular basis.

Before everything could commence, however, the king was to give a speech, officially opening the mating tournament, and Arthur was required to be there along with all competing alphas and all omegas expecting to choose a mate from the bunch.

The spectators were already seated on the tribunes, whispering excitedly among themselves as the alphas lined up in rows in front of the king. Arthur took his place beside Morgana, acknowledging her with a respectful nod they rarely gave each other. Both were dressed in Pendragon red with Camelot’s crest on their chests as they stood tall and proud with their helmets beneath their arms. They were both expected to do well, and while Morgana could theoretically relax as the sign of Gwen’s choice was already tied around her arm in the form of a purple ribbon, she warned Arthur that she was still going to do her very best in the tournament and make their father proud. Arthur could not blame her. That didn’t mean he was going to let her win, though.

The omegas, both the nobles and the commoners, were taking up an entire tribune of their own to make sure all had a great vantage point from where they could observe the alphas. Gwen was standing in the front, wearing a warm woollen cloak that was as red as Morgana’s and Arthur’s and made for keeping her warm for an entire day of standing still. She couldn’t have announced her choice more clearly. Unless, of course, someone thought Arthur was her mate, but with the way she was smiling down at Morgana, there was hardly no mistaking it. Morgana, in turn, seemed unable to stop a similar expression from taking over her face and Arthur shook his head fondly.

He let his eyes wander over the other omegas, his eyes unwittingly seeking out Merlin. He found him in the back beside Percival, dressed in a thick blue cloak that was much more befitting to his status compared to the traveling clothes he’d been wearing the day before. There was a slight breeze to the air that pulled at Merlin’s hair and made his cheeks flush a nice shade of red. He appeared to be talking with Percival about something Arthur was too far away to hear.

Arthur stared. He knew it was unbecoming of a prince, but he found it hard to look away. Merlin’s hair was windswept and he was grinning good-naturedly in response to whatever Percival was saying, and then, almost by chance, his eyes flittered over the alphas and landed on Arthur. If he’d found it hard to look away before, Arthur found it impossible now.

Merlin held his gaze for a while before arching a pointed eyebrow. Percival said something to him, nodding towards Arthur, and while he couldn’t hear what Merlin was saying, he was pretty sure he could guess what the topic was about, because Merlin was wearing a mocking grin, and it wasn’t long before Percival bent over laughing. He cast Arthur a funny look, and Arthur just knew Merlin had relayed their encounter from yesterday.

Arthur closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to fight the aggravation that was coursing through his body. He knew it wasn’t Percival’s fault he found it funny, but that didn’t mean Arthur appreciated being made a laughing stock. Hopefully, Percival’s good opinion of him wouldn’t change because of his little misstep. And yet, it wasn’t his opinion Arthur cared about at all.

Arthur opened his eyes again when Uther stepped in front of the rows of alphas, and the entire tournament grounds fell silent at once. Uther began his speech about how the tournament was crucial for the continued prosperity of Camelot and determined who was the strongest of the alphas and therefore deserved to mate, and who were mere weaklings and thus had no rights to children. Arthur didn’t hear much of it. It was the same speech as all the previous years and he was too tense to focus on his father’s words, the frustration still coursing through his veins, impatiently waiting to be let loose in a battle like nature had prescribed.

The crowd roared when Uther finished his grand speech, and the gathered alphas dispersed so the matches for the peasants could begin. Arthur watched them from the side of the pit, observing his competition so to speak, though he did not deem any of them a threat towards his mating chances. He was the crown prince after all, and it would mostly be peasant omegas who chose the peasant alphas with maybe a few exceptions here and there. So instead he clapped along with the crowd, and let himself be drawn in by the brutal bouts of people who only had their fists and determination to fight with. While not very graceful, there was something primal in the battles that called to Arthur’s instincts and fuelled his desire to crush all of them. To show them who was the better alpha.

If he let his eyes wander to Merlin from time to time to see how he was reacting to the peasant alphas fighting… well… he was just curious.

After lunch, it was time for the sword fighting and what most people considered to be the actual tournament.

Morgana was the first one to fight. Her opponent was a blonde alpha woman whom Arthur recognised from previous years when Arthur had been too young to compete. She’d always managed to place well in the mating tournament, but now she was getting older, and this year she would likely go out in the first round. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t give Morgana a good fight, and she even appeared to have the upper hand a few times before Morgana eventually managed to send her sword flying and kick her leg out from under her, winning the fight with a yield. The woman stood up gracefully afterwards and even clapped along with the crowd as Morgana raised her sword in victory.

The next few matches passed by in a blur until suddenly it was Arthur’s turn to compete. Morgana gave him a good luck punch in the shoulder before Morris handed him his helmet, and he headed out into the middle of the pitch where he bowed to the king and then the omegas, eyes landing on Merlin whose expression didn’t appear all that impressed. Arthur would show him, then. He was the best knight Camelot had to offer, Merlin would just have to see that.

He put on his helmet, took his shield in his left hand and his sword in his right when Morris handed them to him. He turned to face his opponent who was mirroring his position, raising his shield and sword to be ready. And then the match started.

Arthur was determined to look his best, to prove himself so that Merlin could see he was no laughing matter, and set a brutal pace right from the start. His opponent seemed to be of the same mind-set and managed to match Arthur for the first few blows. But Arthur was stronger, better, more agile, and it wasn’t long before his opponent began to stagger under Arthur’s onslaught. With a well-placed blow to the head with Arthur’s shield, he was down, kissing the ground. He yielded when Arthur placed his sword at his throat.

Arthur grinned broadly and dropped his shield to the ground before his helmet went the same way. He lifted his sword into the air to the roar of the excited crowd and laughed with the euphoria that always came after a match gone well. He felt like he could conquer the world at that moment, and after he’d received his father’s nod of approval as he always did, he found his eyes straying to Merlin’s to see his reaction. He couldn’t help it.

Merlin, however, merely arched an unimpressed eyebrow that might as well have been a punch to the gut that was worse than any his opponent had managed to land. The victory felt hollow somehow, the euphoria giving way to something that felt like disappointment, and he had to fight to keep his grin in place to keep up the appearance of being happy over his victory.

Then he stalked off the pitch, dumping his sword, his shield, and his helmet in the hands of his manservant without as much as a word and went up to his room where he yelled at Morris to order him a bath and could he please make it today, and also, he needed to lay out Arthur’s clothes for tonight and polish his armour till it gleamed for the next day. While battle prowess was the most important thing an omega looked for in an alpha, he knew appearance was also a heavy factor. Arthur knew he was handsome, but it never hurt to look his best and if he spent a little extra in front of the mirror, making sure everything in his attire was to his satisfaction, well, Morris knew better than to comment on it.

The great hall was just as packed as the previous evening when he entered, and people were already chatting excitedly among each other, discussing the various matches of the day. Arthur received quite a few congratulations on his victory as he made his way through the hall, and even passed out a few distracted compliments of his own. He’d smelled Merlin’s scent as soon as he’d opened the doors to the great hall, and before he had made a conscious decision, he found himself in front of Merlin who was in the middle of a conversation with Gwaine. Merlin stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence and turned around to frown at Arthur.

Arthur opened his mouth without really knowing what he was going to say, at least not without saying the wrong thing, but Gwaine, thankfully, came to his rescue.

“Arthur,” he said, grinning broadly as he clasped Arthur’s shoulder. “Well fought today.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, gracing him with a grateful yet apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I’d left the tournament grounds before I got to see yours, though.”

Gwaine shrugged. “No worries. You’ll have time to see me fight plenty tomorrow.” He winked at Merlin. “And all the other days, naturally.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, gratefulness quickly traded for annoyance. “You know I almost thought it was a shame you aren’t competing in the matches before lunch instead. I’m sure you’d come out on top.” He smirked in a way that was meant to infuriate. “Now, instead, you’ll have to see yourself beaten by me sooner or later.”

Gwaine merely laughed, apparently not having sensed Arthur’s antagonistic behaviour at all. “We’ll see about that, princess.”

“Oh great,” Merlin said flatly. “Two alphas trying to out-alpha each other. Just what I needed.”

“Isn’t that why you’ve come here, though,” Arthur asked Merlin. “To find a strong alpha who can protect you?”

Merlin snorted. “I know it must be hard for someone like you to understand, but there’s more to life than brawn. Besides, I am quite powerful myself—” He waved his hand in a motion that, now that Arthur was aware he possessed it, probably symbolised magic. “—so I don’t need anyone to defend me.”

Arthur supposed that was correct in a way, even if magic couldn’t defend against everything which was why Morgana was also so adept with a sword. “Then what do you look for in a mate if not strength?” he wanted to know. “Looks?”

Merlin chuckled though there was no trace of humour in it. “Looks certainly can’t harm, but it’s just icing on the cake, and not what actually matters. No, first and foremost, what I look for in a mate is that they aren’t a complete prat,” he said and gave Arthur a look that really couldn’t be mistaken.

Gwaine snickered. “That’s gonna be hard to find. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered an alpha who wasn’t also a prat.”

“Fine then, a lesser prat than a certain someone.”

“Auch!” Gwaine grimaced, looking at Arthur with sympathy. “I think he means you there, mate.”

“Of course I did,” Merlin said, shrugging. “But he’s also the worst case I’ve encountered so far. Hopefully no one else has a head that’s as big as his. But if so, then I fear I might not choose a mate this year.”

Gwaine looked back and forth between them, whistling. “You’re certainly not laying off the abuse there, Merlin. Perhaps we should change the subject before you’ve ruined all of Arthur’s self-esteem?”

Arthur could probably have kissed Gwaine right then. He would have, if they weren’t in the middle of the great hall and in front of Merlin. He might get the wrong idea about Arthur’s preferences.

Merlin smiled softly, which had quite an unexpected effect on Arthur’s heart that felt suddenly two sizes too big to fit in his chest, and agreed to talk about something else. The conversation went on for a while, mostly covering Merlin’s childhood among dragons which was quite a fascinating tale, Arthur had to admit, and he certainly enjoyed the non-hostile conversation with Merlin for once. Eventually, Gwaine bid his goodbye to go say hi to Percival and the omega Merlin had been talking to yesterday, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone with a very uncomfortable silence.

“You seem good friends with Gwaine,” Merlin stated curiously.

Arthur shrugged. “We get along,” he replied. “I occasionally pay his bills at the tavern and he occasionally joins me in slaying a beast as payment.”

“I didn’t know a prince could be friends with people who aren’t noble,” Merlin said neutrally.

“They can’t,” Arthur said. “That’s why I said, ‘we get along.’”

Merlin snickered. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep peacefully at night.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Then who does?”

“My father, of course.”

“Shame,” Merlin said. “Percival told me of your promise to Lancelot today.”

Arthur froze, eyes wide in alarm as he threw a careful glance at their surroundings to make sure nobody had heard them. “Don’t talk too loud about that,” he hissed. “Somebody might hear you and tell my father, and then I’ll be pretty sure Lancelot won’t ever get his due.”

Merlin smiled, soft and warm, and once again Arthur found that his heart didn’t fit in his chest.

“Don’t worry,” Merlin said. “I won’t tell anybody. But if you really believe that commoners can be knights as well, then I think there is hope for Camelot yet.”

-ll-

Arthur went to bed with a spring in his step that night and a smile on his face he couldn’t seem to wipe off no matter how hard he tried. Then again, he wasn’t trying that hard.

His good mood, however, only lasted as far as lunch the next day when he caught sight of Merlin and Gwaine talking in a manner far too familiar. Merlin was laughing at something Gwaine had just said, and he laid an arm on Gwaine’s elbow, smiling in a way that made Arthur’s blood run cold and a fresh wave of frustration and – quite unexpectedly – pain course through his body.

That day, Gwaine was fighting before Arthur, so Arthur made sure to watch Merlin’s expression the entire time Gwaine was in the pit. Once again, Merlin was standing beside Percival and the two of them seemed to be completely caught up in the fight, ohh-ing and ahh-ing at the appropriate times, and cheering loudly for Gwaine whenever he got a good hit in, joining the crowd in their deafening roar when he won quite spectacularly. Arthur didn’t like what he saw at all, felt a deep resentment settle in, and at some point he discovered he was clenching his teeth so hard his jaw was starting to hurt.

When it was his turn to fight, he stalked onto the pitch, nodded to his father, put on his helmet, and took his sword and shield from Morris’ hands and beat his opponent in little over a minute, all aggressiveness and anger and loathing. There was no euphoria afterwards, no thrill of the win to make his smile seem genuine, and he didn’t even notice the roar of the crowd. Merlin was clapping politely, when Arthur sought him out on the tribunes, and while that was better than yesterday, Arthur found it hard to be happy at all. He didn’t want polite clapping. He wanted Merlin to be at least as excited about his battle as he’d been for Gwaine’s. More excited, even.

“You like Gwaine,” Arthur stated, as much as it hurt him, when he cornered Merlin in the great hall where everybody was once again gathered to mingle that evening.

“I do,” Merlin admitted, a small smile escaping him. “He’s fun to be around. And he’s a great fighter. Even if that doesn’t matter as much to me,” he added and did that wave with his hand that apparently meant magic.

“He’s also not very reliable,” Arthur told him. “And he’s also a drunk, and spends all his time in the tavern. I did mention that I often pay his bills for him, did I not?”

“Look,” Merlin said, smile melting into a deep frown. “Gwaine is so nice to you, saving your arse and being a generally good friend, and all you do is tear him down. Does it really matter that much to you that someone isn’t a noble? What happened to your promise to Lancelot?” He paused, tilting his head in understanding. “Or is it because I like him that you now suddenly dislike him?”

“What does Gwaine have that I don’t,” Arthur said abruptly, crossing his arms and clenching his teeth. “Surely you cannot think him more desirable than me. I’m a prince and he’s a drunk. He’ll leave you as soon as your heat is over, whereas I have all the means to provide for you.”

“Well, for starters, he’s not such a big prat as you are. You seem to be under the impression that just because you are a good fighter and look remotely handsome—” Arthur straightened proudly at those words “—and because you’re a prince that all omegas should fall all over themselves to choose you. Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but titles and wealth hardly matters in what makes a good mate.”

“And you think Gwaine would be a good mate?” Arthur asked, a haughty eyebrow arched, his lips twisted into a sneer.

“I think he cares less about himself than you do. I think you’re a proud prick who doesn’t really care about anyone but yourself and your status and your daddy’s good opinion. And I’m sorry, that might work on some, but it doesn’t do it for me.”

“Do you really think I only care about myself?” Arthur said. “I know that some royals couldn’t care less about their subjects as long as the taxes are paid, but Camelot is mine to protect and that doesn’t only mean the land itself, but every citizen in it. Peasant or noble.”

“Except you still couldn’t help yourself taunting your servant, could you?”

“Look, I told you that wasn’t my normal behaviour.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure that it was,” Merlin sneered. “You’re so fucking full of yourself, your Highness.”

“Now look who’s being unfair,” Arthur said. “You don’t know me at all, only met me on one of my bad days, and here you are, judging me. Who’s the proud person now, huh?”

“So far you’ve not given me reason to believe anything else, have you? Yes, you apologised to me when you found out I was an omega, but not to your servant who’s a beta and a commoner. Yes, apparently you made a promise to someone named Lancelot, but I’ve never met him, and for all I know, you’re never going to keep your promise. You refuse to acknowledge Gwaine as your friend, even though it’s clear to everyone who pays attention that he is, and now, just because I like his company and am actually able to acknowledge his good qualities, you feel the need to drag him through the dirt?” Merlin huffed in disbelief, anger and disdain slowly seeping into his voice. “You don’t seem all that reliable to me. And you’re certainly not desirable in _any_ way. I’d rather not mate at all than mate with you,” Merlin sneered through his teeth, nostrils flared.

And that, perhaps, was the worst blow anyone had ever dealt Arthur. He breathed deeply through his nose to ground himself, trying to come up with the memory of a wound that had hurt more than Merlin’s words right now.

He found nothing.

He didn’t know what to say, how to defend himself from what Merlin had just said, because it was all the truth, wasn’t it? A small part of Arthur wanted to argue that Merlin was being unfair, but what did that matter if Arthur couldn’t convince him otherwise.

Merlin gave him a long, hard look that reminded Arthur of his own father. There was no mercy to trace in his eyes, only disdain and contempt, and Arthur found himself at a complete loss of words.

Merlin left him standing there, probably went out to search for Gwaine or another alpha that was more desirable than Arthur. Arthur didn’t follow him, could do nothing but stare at his retreating form.

Morgana sidled up to him a few minutes later. Her expression was all sympathy and she clasped his shoulder in a way that was meant to comfort.

“Perhaps you should go talk to some of the other omegas, Arthur,” she said. “Merlin is clearly not interested, and I hate to say it, but it looks like you’re fighting a losing battle.”

He went to bed instead of taking Morgana’s advice. And while he lay there, unable to sleep, Merlin’s words echoed in his head again and again. Specifically the word _undesirable_. Merlin’s couldn’t mean it, could he? Arthur had always thought everything about him was desirable. He was beyond handsome, filthy rich, a prince, and the best knight and warrior Camelot had to offer. He’d always thought it would never be hard for him to be chosen by an omega, he just hadn’t considered that being chosen by the one _he_ wanted was easier said than done.

He decided that he needed to apologise to Merlin again. It was the only right thing to do.

And he would have done it, had Merlin not avoided him like the plague the following day.

Arthur tried to catch him right before the first rounds of the day started, when all the omegas and the rest of the spectators were about to take their places on the tribunes. Merlin, however, saw him coming from far away and managed to get lost in the crowd, and the next time Arthur saw him, he was standing beside Percival on the omegas tribune as he’d done all the other days.

Arthur tried again around lunch, but he couldn’t find Merlin anywhere, and nobody could tell him where he’d gone. Not even Percival.

“You’re not enchanted again, are you?” Morgana said to him that evening as she stood beside Arthur in the great hall, watching him try to find Merlin in the crowd.

“No,” Arthur ground out.

“Because one could almost be mistaken with the way you’re obsessing over Merlin,” she said carefully.

He gave her a sour look. “Shut up. I’m trying to do the right thing and apologise.”

“And how did that work out for you last time?”

“You’re really not helping, Morgana.”

“What I’m saying is that an apology is not going to work this time, Arthur,” Morgana said in a tone that made Arthur frown at her. “If you keep apologising but don’t change your prattish behaviour, then your apologies have no meaning and become nothing more than empty words.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?” Arthur wanted to know, eyebrow arched. “You know so much, then please tell me what I need to do. Oh, great Morgana.”

She was silent for a moment, as if she was debating whether or not to tell him. Eventually, though, she said, “You need to lose the tournament.”

“I can’t do that,” Arthur said, hard and fast before she’d even finished her sentence. “What you’re suggesting is impossible. If I’m the best and strongest alpha there is, why should I not win the tournament? And what will my father say?” His tone rose a few notches. “The king will not accept anything less than victory. I’ll make Camelot look weak in front of our enemies!”

Morgana shrugged as if trying to look like she didn’t care, when her face showed another truth. “I do not think Merlin cares about that. Or rather, he _does_ care about it. I think that if you want to win Merlin over, you need to show him that your goddamned pride isn’t everything to you, despite what you’ve shown him so far. And I’m not even saying losing the tournament will work, it’s just a suggestion because I think you’ve run out of time to prove him wrong. Tomorrow is the last day, after all, and Merlin will choose a mate, and if you want it to be you, I can see no other alternative. At least not except making a _complete_ fool out of yourself.”

“And losing the tournament will not make me look like a complete fool?”

“Well, you can also get naked and dance around in the courtyard if that’s more to your liking,” Morgana pointed out. “Or something equally horrendous. I’m sure you’ll get a lot attention that way, and not only from Merlin.” 

Arthur glowered at her. Morgana glared back, never one to back down from a staring contest. Arthur sighed and averted his gaze. 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.” He nodded to himself before looking at her again. “You’re the next best fighter in Camelot. I’ll lose to you in the final. That’ll make it more bearable. You’ll know I lost on purpose, and father will forgive me for losing to you. I think I can manage that.” 

“But will it sway Merlin?” Morgana said. “Losing to your own sister?” 

“It has to,” Arthur said, defeated shoulders slumping in on themselves. “I don’t know what else to do.” He was embarrassed to note it sounded almost like a whine. 

Something like sympathy crossed over Morgana’s face, and she smiled slightly, in the sort of cheering up way she always did whenever Arthur was feeling particularly down. “I’m sure it’ll work out, Arthur. And if not, another omega is going to choose you. It won’t be like last year at all.” 

Somehow, that didn’t cheer Arthur up at all. 

-ll-

He felt like he’d barely slept at all when Morris woke him up the next morning. He was restless, filled with anticipation as Morris dressed him in his armour, and yet he also felt strangely tranquil. By the end of the day Merlin would have either chosen him or somebody else and that would be that. There’d be no more he could do about it.

He watched the final rounds of the wrestling matches between the peasant alphas, and wondered whether Merlin might choose one of them. He certainly seemed to be engaged in the matches, and yet somehow, Arthur couldn’t quite picture Merlin with one of them. No, it was far more likely that Merlin would choose Gwaine or another sword-wielding alpha who was also a commoner.

After lunch was the first semi-final where Arthur faced off against a young alpha woman who’d done quite well in all her matches and won without much difficulty. Yet against Arthur, she lost. Still, she’d made it this far which meant she was sure to be chosen, and didn’t appear all that disappointed at yielding to Arthur.

Merlin, when Arthur sought him out on the tribunes, didn’t clap at all. He gave Arthur a stone-faced look and turned around to talk to Percival instead.

The second semi-final had Morgana combat Gwaine. It was probably the most eventful match of the entire tournament. Gwaine had sheer, brutal strength whereas Morgana had agility, and both displayed an unseen repertoire of sword moves that had the spectators stand up from their seats more than once.

And yet, in the end, Morgana lost.

Arthur was shocked into silence as the crowd roared. Gwaine raised his sword into the air to celebrate his victory, grinning and laughing while Morgana took off her helm and sent Arthur an apologetic look. Arthur didn’t dare see if Merlin was clapping.

“I’m sorry,” Morgana said during the break that was to give Gwaine a chance to catch his breath and draw out the tension before the final. “I tried my best, but—”

“I know you did,” Arthur said, feeling like the ground shook under him, like he needed to sit down.

“What are you going to do now you can’t lose to me?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur answered, voice low, almost a whisper. “I really don’t know.”

Gwaine was a good swordsman. Had he not been a commoner Arthur would have knighted him a long time ago. He was also, although he could never admit it out loud, one of Arthur’s good friends.

But could Arthur bear losing to him? Could he stand the thought that a mere commoner had beaten the crown prince? Could he look his father in his eyes afterwards even if Arthur knew he’d thrown the fight?

And what about Merlin? What would he think? Morgana had never been a competitor for Merlin’s choice, so losing to her would have been safe. But losing to Gwaine? Merlin liked Gwaine. In fact, he was probably going to pick Gwaine if Arthur didn’t do something to change his mind. But the question was what he was supposed to do. Should he win over Gwaine and prove he was the strongest alpha? Would Merlin then choose Gwaine because he’d never choose Arthur and Gwaine was the second best? Or should he lose to Gwaine and do as Morgana suggested, proving he could stand losing, that his pride wasn’t everything. But what if Merlin chose Gwaine because he was the strongest alpha? What was the right choice?

When Arthur went out to face Gwaine in the pitch, he had his decision.

Gwaine was grinning at him. “It’s just you and me now, huh?” he said right before putting his helmet on.

“Yeah,” Arthur said, too lost in thoughts to say anything else. He put on his helmet, took his sword and his shield from Morris’ hands as usual, and the match began.

Arthur let Gwaine have the first move, blocking it with his shield before letting his own sword swish through the air. Gwaine parried, twirling to avoid Arthur’s shield, and kicked out with his legs. It was an even match, though Arthur knew he was better than Gwaine, and could have won. Not easily, but still come out the victor.

Instead, Arthur let himself grow lax, let himself take longer to answer Gwaine’s attacks. He barely put in any of his own and let Gwaine slowly but surely gain the upper hand. Gwaine frowned at him through his helmet. He knew how good Arthur was, but offered no comment on Arthur’s behaviour, just carried on as if nothing was wrong.

Arthur saw Gwaine’s final move coming, yet did nothing to stop it. His sword was knocked out of his hand and skidded over the ground too far away for Arthur to reach it.

Gwaine pointed his sword at Arthur’s throat. “Do you yield?” he said.

“I yield,” Arthur said, loud and clear, his words echoing out over the tournament ground which went silent in shock.

People began muttering in confusion, but then, somebody started clapping and it wasn’t long before a roar broke out among the crowd. Uther was staring at Arthur in disbelief and disappointment. Morgana was smiling, nodding as if he’d done the right thing. Merlin was grinning at Gwaine, laughing and roaring with the rest of the crowd and Arthur felt like he’d just committed the biggest mistake in his life.

After a small break, the choosing ceremony began. Exactly as on the first day, all alphas stood in rows and Arthur stood beside Morgana. She patted his shoulder to comfort him, but it didn’t really help.

The omegas came down from their tribune to stand in front of the alphas. Uther made some grand speech about how the alphas had now shown them all what they were made of and thus it was now time for the omegas to make their choices. Arthur didn’t listen. He barely registered when his father sat back down in his chair and the choosing began.

At first, no one moved, but then, to absolutely nobody’s surprise, Gwen smiled widely and went to stand in front of Morgana, the two of them exchanging the kind of lovey-dovey smile Arthur had been envious of all year.

That seemed to be the cue for the others to start choosing, and the omegas began weaving in and out of the rows of alphas to make their choices, standing in front of their desired alpha. Merlin was nowhere to be seen. He’d chosen Gwaine, then. Or somebody else. But most likely Gwaine.

Perhaps it was better if it was Gwaine, actually. He was not the kind of alpha to have a mate for more than a year, which meant Merlin would be free again next season. Arthur would have more time to convince Merlin to choose him, much more time than these few days where he’d only managed to fuck everything up, and then, he would make everything right, convince Merlin that Arthur was the best choice he could make. He closed his eyes in resignation as the thought settled within him like a bandage on a bleeding wound. He supposed he could live with that.

He’d have to reject any omega who chose him now though, as he wasn’t sure he wanted any other omega than Merlin. Truth was that he’d never smelled anyone as lovely as Merlin before. He’d never ever experienced attraction towards another like the way Merlin’s scent was reeling him in. And that included the time he’d been enchanted. Yes, the other omegas smelled lovely too, amazing even, and yet, compared to Merlin’s scent they were barely noticeable. The thought alone that anyone but Merlin might choose him felt outright _wrong_ down to the very essence of Arthur’s being. And if he had to go through yet another mating season, completely alone while everyone around him was all lovey-dovey, especially Morgana and Gwen, then so be it.

The sounds of people moving about had almost quieted down which meant the choosing ceremony was almost over. For a relieved moment, Arthur thought he wasn’t going to be chosen at all, before he felt a presence come to stand in front of him. His mood, which had just gotten better, plummeted.

Arthur braced himself to a face of disappointment, opening his eyes to reject the one who had chosen him, and nearly choked on his spit instead. Because there was Merlin, looking him up and down and up again, nodding to himself.

“I suppose you’ll have to do,” he said before he met Arthur’s eyes with a sly look.

Arthur could not hear the crowd over the blood rushing through his own ears.

Merlin had _chosen_ him. Not Gwaine. Him. Arthur.

He felt like he could take on the entire world just then, thrill and euphoria like nothing he’d ever experienced filling his body. But perhaps that wasn’t needed just yet as he met Merlin’s smile with a tentative one of his own.

-ll-

Merlin was already waiting inside Arthur’s rooms when he entered. He was sitting on the bed, barefooted and dressed in a simple blue tunic, and had a book in his lap Arthur supposed he had been reading before he arrived. He looked up at Arthur with an expression Arthur couldn’t quite decipher. There was no trace of mockery in it as Arthur might have expected, no smugness or self-righteousness at what he’d made Arthur do either. It appeared as if he was simply observing Arthur’s movements with a calm curiousness Arthur didn’t know what to do with. Technically, Merlin could still refuse him, in fact he could refuse him at any given point during the next week. Last year, this had been the moment Sophia had dragged Arthur away to go sacrifice his soul, and while Arthur doubted Merlin had any such plans given how hard he’d made Arthur fight for him, there was still a small part of him that questioned whether or not Merlin had chosen him during the ceremony only to let him down now in some sort of wicked revenge.

Arthur took a careful step into the room, then a few more, just as cautious. He came to a standstill halfway between the door and the bed where Merlin was sitting, unsure of how to proceed. He still couldn’t read Merlin’s expression, didn’t know what Merlin wanted him to do. In a way he supposed it had been easier last year when an enchantment had forced his actions, because now he was at a complete loss of what to do. There was a part of him, a much bigger part of him compared to the part that dreaded revenge, actually, that feared Merlin was still deciding whether or not Arthur was a desirable mate. And if that were the case, even the smallest of missteps could mean rejection, so it was better to do or say nothing until Merlin gave him a clue as to how to proceed.

Merlin closed the book with a snap that to Arthur might as well have been a loud bang. After placing it on the bedside table, he got up from the bed and started walking towards Arthur with slow, calculated steps, his face still not hinting at his thoughts. Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat as Merlin stopped right in front of him, every muscle in his body tensing in preparation for whatever Merlin was going to do or say.

At first, Merlin didn’t do anything, he simply continued to watch Arthur with that unreadable expression of his. It felt like he was searching Arthur’s eyes for something, perhaps the answer as to whether or not he’d made the right decision. Arthur could only watch him in turn, eyes glued to Merlin’s as he breathed as shallowly as possible. Still, Merlin’s lovely smell found its way through Arthur’s nostrils and he had to fight really hard not to move, to respond to its calling. Merlin was not yet in heat, but it wouldn’t be long now. Perhaps, already the following day he’d be warm and wanting, demanding to be taken care of. But that was not now, and Arthur would hate to blow it all up this close to what he’d wanted all along.

Before Arthur had really registered what was happening, Merlin moved his head to bury his nose between Arthur’s neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply as if he had never before taken a breath quite as satisfying as this one.

And then he _whined_. “God,” he said into Arthur’s skin. “Why did you have to smell so good?”

He exhaled, letting out a stream of warm air over Arthur’s neck that had him shudder, just the tiniest bit. Then he took another breath that was as deep as the first and in the next second, Arthur felt Merlin lick at his throat. It took all of his willpower to remain completely still. There was nothing he wanted more than to touch Merlin, and yet he still didn’t dare move a muscle.

Merlin’s tongue glided over his skin, leaving a warm, moist pattern in its wake. He started to nibble at his skin, teeth softly biting before his tongue came out to lather it. Arthur allowed himself to tilt his head back to give Merlin better access. He received a pleased sound in return and it felt like Merlin was smiling against his skin. Instinctively, Arthur answered with a little sound of pleasure he regretted the moment Merlin drew back to stare at him. Arthur tilted his head back down, afraid of what he might see in Merlin’s eyes, but unable to look away all the same.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then, Merlin leaned in to kiss him, his eyelids drifting shut. At first, it was just lips upon lips, simple, almost chaste in its simplicity. Then Merlin kissed him again, _harder_ , demanding more, and the only thing Arthur could do was kiss back and match him in fervour. Merlin opened his mouth just the slightest bit, his tongue coming out to lick at Arthur’s lips, probing them open to deepen the kiss, and Arthur was lost to the sensation. His entire world shrunk down to Merlin’s warm mouth, his soft lips and hot wanting mouth.

Arthur moaned, deep in his throat, unable to keep it in. He stiffened, surprised and horrified at his own lack of control, but then he felt Merlin’s smile against his lips and he relaxed again. Merlin drew back and when Arthur opened his eyes to look at him, he was smiling, coy, but also sly, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that could only mean trouble. But whether that was of the good kind, Arthur could still not tell.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know,” Merlin said and nodded down towards Arthur’s arms that were hovering about an inch from Merlin’s frame quite without Arthur’s knowledge. He’d been so into the kisses he hadn’t been aware of his own instinctive movement. “I know you want to.”

Arthur hesitated. He hadn’t touched Merlin since their initial meeting and it felt almost wrong to be doing so now. Even if he wanted to. Really, _really_ badly.

Slowly, he let his hands glide over Merlin’s arms, the thin layer of Merlin’s tunic not doing anything to hide the warmth his skin was producing.

“Quit teasing,” Merlin demanded, “and _touch_ me.”

Arthur searched his eyes, his own narrowing as he tried to figure out what Merlin meant by that. He was already touching Merlin.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “If we’re going to be doing anything sex-related you’re going to have to start touching me. And I don’t mean light feather-touches that tickle. I mean _real_ touches. Like this,” Merlin said and boldly wrapped his arms around Arthur and groped his arse.

Arthur laughed, startled, and drew Merlin closer, drawing him into another kiss, greedy hands roaming Merlin’s body. “Okay, then.”

“That’s more like it,” Merlin said into the kiss, tugging at Arthur’s tunic.

Arthur let him take it off of him, and preened inside when he saw Merlin take in his chest.

“You know what would be really great?” Merlin said.

“What?”

“If you picked me up right now and threw me on your bed to show your alphaness. I’d love that.”

“Really?” Arthur said, arching an eyebrow, not quite able to stop a smirk from appearing on his lips. “I thought you didn’t care about brawn at all?”

“I lied, you know,” Merlin whispered as if sharing a secret. “When I said your fighting didn’t impress me. God, watching you fight? Best part of the tournament. That and seeing you trying to win me over.”

“Hah!” Arthur said, triumphant. “So you do care about brawn!”

“Not really,” Merlin said, planting a kiss on Arthur’s lips. “But you’re really beautiful when you fight. It looks almost like you’re dancing instead. The way you wield your sword, the way you move your feet. Graceful like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“…I’m not sure if I should be offended at that.”

“You can be offended if you want to. I still want you to throw me on your bed. It’s really soft.”

Arthur, not one to deny an omega their wishes, picked Merlin up, carried him to the bed and threw him on it. He toed off his boots before crawling over Merlin on the bed, bending down to kiss him long and filthy, his scent rich and intoxicating in Arthur’s nose.

Merlin smiled, soft and private, and started tugging on Arthur’s clothes with impatience, and soon they were both naked. Merlin let his hands glide over Arthur’s body, watching the patterns they drew on his skin with wonder. Arthur grinned in return, the notion that Merlin liked his body mending his self-esteem, which had otherwise experienced quite a turmoil these last few days.

“I’m so glad you threw the tourney,” Merlin whispered in the space between them.

Arthur stiffened, searching Merlin’s eyes. “You knew.”

“Gwaine told me right before the choosing ceremony. But even before that, I’d had my suspicions.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, leaning down to breathe in Merlin’s scent, nibbling at his ear afterwards. It made Merlin shudder. “I had to take the chance. Even if I feared you might pick Gwaine.”

Merlin snorted. “Percival had already called dibs. I wasn’t going to come between that. And I didn’t want Gwaine anyway. He doesn’t smell like you do. Though I’ll say that if you don’t soon get on with it, I might just decide to join the two of them instead.”

Arthur laughed, seeing it for the tease it was, and kissed his way down Merlin’s body until he could close his mouth around Merlin’s erect cock.

-ll-

“I’ve been wondering about something,” Arthur said after some time as they lay there, tied together by Arthur’s knot.

Merlin hummed in response.

“How do…” Arthur started. “I’ve noticed no omegas ever choose the same alpha, and I’ve seen no fights about it. How can that be? I mean, surely, other omegas were interested in bagging the crown prince.”

Merlin opened one eye to look at Arthur. He smiled smugly. “Arthur,” he said, sounding almost patronising. “Unlike you big macho alphas, we omegas actually talk about it. It’s not that people cannot disagree with which omega should choose which alpha, but we usually know who is more attracted to whom. After all. The alpha can always object to the omega choosing them. And well, in your case it was pretty clear to all the other omegas that you would have rejected anyone who wasn’t me. They even teased me about it, those bloody bastards. But I told them I wasn’t going to pick you if you continued to be such a prat. So thank you for that.”

Arthur let that sink in before he said, “Were there ever any other alphas who caught your eye?”

“You mean, would I have chosen someone else had you not let Gwaine win the final right?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Merlin said, inching closer to Arthur, all warmth and omega about to go into heat. “I’d have gone home, taken as many herbs as I could to stave off my heat, and waited till next year where you’d hopefully become less of an arse.”

Arthur couldn’t help the giddy grin that broke out over his face. He kissed Merlin. “You wanted me,” he said.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but his lips were twisted up into a small smile. “I thought we’d already ascertained that as I have, in fact, already chosen you.”

“Not like that,” Arthur clarified. “You didn’t just want any alpha to soothe your heat as some do.”

“If I had wanted someone to merely soothe my heat I probably wouldn’t have gone after the bloody crown prince of Camelot. Surely you must know people don’t just soothe their heat with someone of your standing. The king himself pulled me aside when it became clear you weren’t going to choose anybody else.”

“What!?” Arthur said horrified, stiffening. “My father did _what_?”

“It was extremely embarrassing, I’ll have you know. But I told him I knew what I was going in for. He laughed and approved of me letting you work for it. I think he guessed you threw the tournament, by the way, so you don’t have to be worried about any repercussions on that front.”

Somehow, that had actually escaped Arthur’s mind after Merlin had chosen him, that his father was going to express his disappointment with him. He hummed in response, settling in to get a bit of rest before the next round.

-ll-

The following morning, Merlin was in heat and the next few days Arthur didn’t even bother to get clothed. Merlin didn’t either, and Morris took to gently knocking on the door, waiting for an answer before he opened it, quickly pushing dinner inside Arthur’s chambers, and fleeing before either of them could get up from the bed.

One month after mating season, Merlin patted his belly with a soft smile and said, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re… what?” Arthur asked, eyes wide.

“You heard me the first time,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes without being really annoyed. “I’m pregnant.”

“You mean… you didn’t take an… an anti-pregnancy potion after your heat?” Arthur’s heart was starting to beat wildly in his chest, wonder and pleasant surprise filling his body.

Merlin shook his head, smiling smugly. “Nope.” He grinned at Arthur. “So now we’re going to be parents.”

Arthur couldn’t stop grinning as he picked Merlin up, twirled him around while laughing, before he threw him on the bed for some celebratory sex.

Uther, too, was extremely pleased that Merlin had decided Arthur was worthy to be the father to his first child and threw a celebration feast that neither Merlin nor Arthur attended because they were stuck together in a tie.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always appreciated. As are comments ^_^
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://elveatas.tumblr.com/)  
> And on Livejournal [here](http://elveatas.livejournal.com/)


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